


come here

by irwiins



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, idk what this is, its rly lame n short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:09:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irwiins/pseuds/irwiins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Multiple thoughts flooded his clouded and fuzzy mind at that point, the one of: "shit, you're gonna be fucked in the morning," being the priority of them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stella_gracex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stella_gracex/gifts), [chameleonmikey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleonmikey/gifts).



> thx 2 courtney for the editing tbh

Harsh yet delicate fingers cascade through the blond streaked hair, black metal upon his coloured lips hidden, and the crease located right in between his eyebrows is anything but discreet. Right at that moment, Luke was way out of his element — and far too disoriented to leave. A pounding headache was sure to develop overnight and the juvenile would probably be regretting the consumption of toxins by the time he woke up in a bed; high chance it not being his own. Dilated pupils are occurring faster than normal, and the lights are only blinding the poor man's stable vision.

Closer, closer, closer. That’s what Luke was becoming when he happened to stumble towards his destination (clearly unknown) and with his now sweat soaked brow knitting once again in the middle. The teenager lets the cool metal of the piercing disappear into the inner works of his mouth again. Cocaine coated nostrils are evident, fingers dance against the skin in hopes to discard the unwanted powder. 

And maybe he wasn't the most orientated, and perhaps he wasn't one to fall under the sober category at that point in time; but Luke was having fun - and that's really all that mattered, to him, anyway. Multiple thoughts flooded his clouded and fuzzy mind at that point, the one of: "shit, you're gonna be fucked in the morning," being the priority of them all.

Eyes are hooded over, teeth scraping endlessly against the metal ring that’s in view once again; force of habit, really. But at that point in time, he didn't care. He cared about having fun. And fun was what he was having, drinking from a red solo cup, dancing to noise that's thumping the bass louder than normal music but the most important, grinding against complete strangers - that was always important to the teen.

That's how he stumbled across Ashton, a boy who was quite like him - a mess. They’d never spoken before, but by the way that he was moving to the music was with a certainty that Luke wanted to know more about. Maybe it was the way that the sweat glistened against the deeply tanned complexion, or the way that his hips were swinging to the music in perfect timing. 

Luke couldn’t quite put his finger on the matter, far too high for his own health. But, fuck, something about the male was making him excited. He was having a hard time being able to actually hold himself up straight, so how he was going to spark up conversation with the boy was a complete mystery, even to Luke himself.

Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about conversation, because apparently Ashton had the same idea running through his equally cocaine infused brain. 

“Dance with me.”

It was short and sweet, more than what Luke had expected. In situations like this one, you were lucky to even strike conversation before being felt up by a stranger; Luke had experienced that first hand. Puckered lips were trying to respond, but eventually, he realised that he's in too deep, and not one for talking anyway. A simple nod is the way to go, and Luke finds himself creating the smallest of sounds to respond with. The toxins are doing their job quicker than usual, words not even having the time to process from one cell to another. 

Footwork comes next, the immense struggle of edging closer to the boy that had asked him to dance and situating himself in a way that'd be right for the two. Many would think that, from the struggle that Luke's displaying, he'd never drunk before, and that was true to an extent; he'd never drunk this much before. But, as he found a steady footing, the blond could move his glazed over hues onto the similar ones above. Soon enough, hands, much larger than his own, are wrapped around his waist and with a grip that's firm enough for Luke's enjoyment. Hips begin to move, in time and synchronised.

Crotches and hips alike move in one fellow rhythm, getting a steady but still pleasurable movement going for both Luke and Ashton to enjoy. Of course, at that point, they were just two strangers happening to spend their Saturday out... And somehow ended up grinding upon one another; classy. Luke finds comfort in what he's doing, complete and utter freedom seeps through his veins, being displayed in multiple ways on his outer layers.

“I'm Ashton.”   
“Luke. ”


End file.
